Page 30 of Fool Me Twice
It was guarded by the statue of an oriental dragon five or six feet high.There were odd coins in its mouth, and in its coils.Was this like a wishing well?Or an offering to whatever spirits might be around here?Feeling daft, but doing it anyway, Zig put a pound coin at the base of the statue before heading through the low doorway into the library.
Inside, it definitely looked old: the floor was of flagstones, covered with rugs of varying size and pattern, and the white-painted ceiling was crossed by heavy black beams.Off to one side was a large wooden table with chairs arranged around it, where an old man sat engrossed in a book.Most of the chairs looked comfy and modern, but in a corner was a dark oak monstrosity with a tapestry cushion straight out of the Middle Ages.A desk with a computer and printer was occupied by a young brown-haired woman in what Zig was coming to think of as “Glastonbury” clothes—long skirt and a top that laced up the front.She was frowning at her screen, so he didn’t like to interrupt her.
Unsurprisingly, bookshelves covered the walls and made inroads into the central space.Zig wandered over to the nearest one and glanced at the contents.Books on dowsing, magic, and astral projection.And Hermeticism, whatever that was.He browsed on, eventually coming to a section on mythology.Here, he found...not precisely what he was looking for, but close: books on local legends.Tales of King Arthur, Joseph of Arimathea, and some bloke he’d never heard of called Gwynn ap Nudd.He took a few of the more promising books back to the table and settled in to read.
It was Zig’s first shift at the Prince of Wales that night.He made sure he got there early cos he wanted his new colleagues to know he wasn’t a slacker.But not too early, cos he didn’t want them to think he was a total suck-up.Starting at five meant he had to leave for work well before Si got home, which wasn’t great.Si had promised to come to the pub during the evening, but he’d be with his mates, which...also wasn’t great.
Sod it.It was what it was.
Ange was wearing a tight red dress tonight that showed off her ample curves, with lipstick to match.She seemed cautiously pleased to see him.“Right, then.”She turned and raised her voice.“Finn?New boy’s here.”
A young, slender man with bleach blond hair and gauges in both ears put the bucket of ice he was carrying behind the bar and stepped briskly towards them.“Zig, right?Come this way and I’ll get you a shirt.”
Right.The polo shirt.Zig had turned up in a black button-up shirt, but he hadn’t held out much hope of being allowed to keep on wearing it.
Finn watched him surreptitiously while he was changing, then looked away when Zig caught his eye.
Hah.Still got it.Although he hoped Finn wasn’t gonna come on to him, cos that’d be awkward, what with Si—
What with Si not being in any way, shape, or form your boyfriend, you wanker, and not likely to be either.Shit.“You been working here long?”Zig asked, both to be friendly and to gauge staff turnover.But mainly to distract himself from his own thoughts.
“Couple of years,” Finn said.“It’s a good gig.Pay’s all right once your three months are up, and Ange doesn’t let anyone take the piss, you know?”
Zig laughed.“Yeah, I got that impression.What are the punters like?Do I need to worry about them getting rowdy?Any troublemakers I need to know about?”
Finn shook his head.“Ange won’t stand for any of that.One strike and you’re barred.But they’re a great crowd here, for the most part.Just want to have a good time, you know?”
“That’s locals, though, am I right?What about the tourists?Place like Glastonbury has gotta get plenty of them.”
“Not so many round this time of year.And Glastonbury tourists...They’re not, like, football hooligans or whatever.Worst you can say about most of ’em is that they make half a pint of cider last a night.They’re not here to cause trouble.And yeah, festival time’s a bit different, but most of them stay on-site over at Pilton.”Finn smiled shyly.“You’ve recently moved here, then?”
“Yeah.How about you?You don’t talk like a local.”
“No, I grew up in the New Forest.You’re from London, right?”Finn added.
Zig took a mo to answer as his head was filled with a mad picture of Finn growing up actually in a forest, like a squirrel or a hobbit or something.“Yeah.Lewisham.So, the New Forest, that’s...?”
“Marchwood.That’s my hometown, if you can call it a town.Near Totton.”Finn side-eyed Zig and smirked.“Southampton?Heard of that one?”
“That’s where all the cruise ships set off from, innit?Grannies off to sail round the Caribbean.”Zig’s gran had talked about it once, but she’d never got round to going.Probably never had the money or any hopes of it, now he came to think about it.
Zig’s stomach twisted.If only she’d lived longer.Maybe he’d have got a proper job, been able to spoil her...
“That’s right,” Finn said.“And the Isle of Wight ferry,” he added as if it was at least as important as all them floating hotels.
“What you doing in Glastonbury, then?”Zig asked, and immediately kicked himself, cos the last thing he wanted was any questions about whathewas doing here.“Don’t you miss the sea?”he asked quickly.
Finn shrugged.“We’re close enough here.I can always drive up to Weston-super-Mare if I want to have a paddle.You ready?Time we were getting back to the bar, before Ange sends out a search party.”
Huh.If Zig wasn’t mistaken, he wasn’t the only one who didn’t wanna talk about his past.
Zig was getting into the swing of things, reaching for glasses without having to think about it, when he glanced up and saw Si walking in the door.His heart skipping, Zig flashed him a smile, which froze as Adam Merchant stomped in behind him, his chin up and his eyes hard.Wanker.
Yeah, right.Cos it’s not like he hasn’t got reason to hate you.Whether he knows it or not.
Adam hadn’t changed a tenth as much as Si had, since the last time Zig had seen him.He hadn’t bulked up or anything, and he was clean-shaven.Still had that arty look about him.No visible ink, though, which, seriously?A tattoo artist with no tattoos?That was like turning up for work a bar wearing an Alcoholics Anonymous T-shirt.
Adam was closely followed by a fit bloke with a worried expression, and a punk girl who looked like she took no prisoners.Shehad ink all right: a wicked death’s head hawkmoth on her throat and stuff Zig couldn’t make out on both hands.Plenty of piercings, too, and blood-red hair except where it was shaved.She looked like the sort of woman who occasionally made Zig wonder if he might be a bit bi, which, based on past experience, probably meant she was a lesbian.Funny how that always seemed to work out.
